


When The Stitch Comes Loose

by halfsweet



Series: Parenthood AU [8]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Family Feels, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfsweet/pseuds/halfsweet
Summary: It's hard balancing his work and personal time while trying to keep his family together after the incident. Brendon's only wish is for everything to be fine again.





	When The Stitch Comes Loose

**Author's Note:**

> Back to Brendon's POV! Enjoy!

It’s already late at night. David is already settled in his crib, hopefully already asleep, and he and Patrick are lying in the bed in the dark. The air feels tense and awkward, and they haven’t even said a word to each other.

Patrick is quiet under the blanket as David’s dolphin plush is hugged to his chest. He remembers the moment when David told him to give it to Patrick—come to think of it, he doesn’t even know why David gave Patrick that dolphin in the first place—and Patrick never goes to sleep without it, not even once. It’s almost like the dolphin is Patrick’s only link to David when he’s actively trying to keep his distance from David.

He understands why Patrick chooses to avoid David in the mean time, so he would try to help Patrick to his best ability, no matter how much David cries to him about wanting to see Patrick again.

He flicks his gaze towards Patrick, a wave of sadness washing over him at the dull look in Patrick’s eyes. He moves closer to Patrick and places his hand on Patrick’s arm, caressing slowly. “If you want, we can always try for another.”

Patrick shakes his head, his eyes still staring into space. “I'm just going to get into another miscarriage again.”

“You don't know that.”

“And I don’t want to be a killer.”

“You’re not.” He states firmly, hand stopping its motion as he grips at Patrick's arm, not enough to leave any marks. “That was not your fault. You’re _not_ a killer for having a miscarriage.”

“I am!” Patrick’s jaw tightens as he focuses his gaze on him, his face turning red. “Why do you think people hate us—the _carriers_ —so much? Because we keep—”

“Patrick…”

“Because we keep having miscarriages! You heard what Vicky said the other day! Most of our pregnancies end in— and we end up—”

Patrick curls into himself and erupts into silent sobs that shatter his heart. It’s heartbreaking enough to hear Patrick saying all those words about himself, but his sobs? His cries? His suffering and misery because of their lost baby?

He places his hands on Patrick’s back, running his hand up and down and pulling him close. There’s nothing he can say that will be helpful, so he just keeps quiet and holds Patrick to his chest. The phrase _“It’s going to be okay”_ is getting too old too fast, especially when all their friends and family have been saying the same thing since the news broke. For one thing, he knows that that’s the last thing Patrick wants to hear at the moment.

Patrick’s fingers cling to him as sobs wrack his warm body. Worried, he strokes Patrick’s head once and rests his hand on his forehead, frowning when it feels unusually warm. Patrick’s fever has been on and off lately.

Has Patrick been so upset with the miscarriage that it begins to take toll on his health?

David’s loud wails begin to echo in the apartment, and he glances worriedly at the door. He needs to check on David, but he also doesn’t want to leave Patrick alone. Not in Patrick’s condition.

“Go.” Patrick whispers, his fingers slowly releasing their grip on his shirt. “He needs you.”

He looks at Patrick, uncertain, but eventually nods. As much as he doesn’t want to leave Patrick, he also needs to take care of David. “I’ll make it quick.”

He makes a beeline to David’s room and peeks his head inside, seeing David sitting up and wailing in his crib. “David?”

“Daddy!” David cries, his arms raised in the air, like he’s expecting him to pick him up, which he does. “Daddy! Make him stop!”

“Make who stop?” He asks, bouncing David in his arms to calm him down.

“The baby!” David wails into his shoulders, his tears staining his shirt. “He’s crying again! Make him stop!”

His stomach drops at the mention of the baby. Does David really see the baby? “How do I make him stop?”

David’s crying soon quiets down into small hiccups. “T- the baby just stopped.”

“He did?”

David nods, sniffling. “Daddy’s here.”

He tries not to tear up at David’s answer. “Did the baby tell you why he’s crying?”

“He said his Mama Bear got hurt.”

He pauses, mouth hanging open slightly in shock and disbelief. Did the baby sense what Patrick was feeling? Can the baby sense what Patrick has been feeling since that fateful night?

“Did Daddy find his Mama Bear?”

He fakes a smile and kisses David’s head, breathing in his scent. He wishes he were David; blissfully unaware of what has been happening and believing that everything and everyone is fine and happy. “Daddy’s still working on it.”

“Hurry.” David mumbles with a yawn, and he covers David’s opened mouth with his fingers. “He miss his Mama Bear.”

“I know, Little Bear.” He nods, hoping the smile on his face is good enough to reassure David. “I’m trying.”

David must have bought it because, the next thing he knows, David changes the topic. “Daddy, can I sleep with Mama Bear?”

David’s question catches him off guard. Combined with David’s soft voice and sleepy face, he almost feels compelled to say yes to him. David is rarely the type to _ask_ for something. He would often usually demand for whatever he wants at the moment. They have tried multiple times to get David to break the habit, but nothing works. David would always get back into his demanding self again, especially when it comes to Patrick. It’s always either _“Daddy, I want Mama Bear”_ or _“Daddy, I wanna sleep with Mama Bear”_ , so when David _requests_ rather than _demands_ for Patrick this time around, that means he must have _really_ missed Patrick.

And he knows he can’t separate David from Patrick for a while longer, but he also knows it still hurts Patrick when he sees David— not that it’s any of their faults. Patrick is still grieving, and him being around babies or toddlers would instantly remind him of the very one they lost.

But it’s been weeks, and David has never been separated from Patrick for that long. David needs Patrick, he’s aware of that, but Patrick also needs time for himself to heal.

He lets out a sigh. Hopefully he’s doing the right thing. “Sure. But be quiet, okay?”

David is sleepy and tired, but the tightened wrap around his neck is enough to tell him that David hears him and is excited about it. “Okay.”

He leans over David’s crib to pick up the penguin plush when David speaks again, his voice heavy with sleep. “Daddy, I want milk.”

A small smile spreads across his face. “Of course, Little Bear.”

After handing David his plush, he makes his way to the kitchen to prepare milk, David occasionally nodding off on his shoulder. At a healthy 32-pound, David isn’t exactly light when he’s holding the toddler with just one arm. Every time he tries to set David down on the counter or in his chair, David clings tight to his neck and refuses to let go.

Preparing milk has never been so hard.

_“Go away.”_

He hears David whisper, and he looks from the corner of his eyes to see David glaring at the floor from his shoulder. He cranes his neck to see what David’s glaring at, but finds nothing there.

 _“_ My _Daddy. Go to your Daddy.”_

His throat constricts. Is David talking to the baby again?

He returns back to the shaking the warm milk, half-wanting to ignore the one-sided conversation David is having with a baby that, apparently, only David himself can see and half-wanting to ask questions about the baby to David.

He can’t help the sad thoughts that begin to bubble into his mind. Why is it that only David is able to see and communicate with the baby? Why can’t he do the same thing? Then again, what if the baby _isn’t_ their lost baby? What if the baby is just a random baby who lost his parents?

_“He lost his Mama Bear and Daddy.”_

_“Cries a lot. But he always stops when Daddy’s here.”_

He rubs at the corner of his eyes to get rid of any tears before David can notice.

_“A boy. Hair like Mama Bear.”_

He rubs harder. Patrick would have absolutely adored the baby and would never let go of the baby. David would get sulky and pouty because Patrick’s attention won’t be on him anymore, and the baby would always want to play with David and follow wherever he goes. David might say he doesn’t want to be a big brother, but he can already tell that David is going to be a great one— albeit a very reluctant one.

David can be pretty possessive with his toys, but when he walked into David’s room that night to see some of his toys at an empty chair and David claiming that he only put them there to stop the baby from crying, it really showed just how much David cares about the baby enough to share his toys.

“Daddy?”

David’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he wipes any traces of tears left in his eyes and clears his throat before responding to David. “Yeah? What is it, Little Bear?”

“M’sleepy.” David yawns. “Want milk.”

Smiling, he presses a light kiss to the back of David’s head. “It’s already done, Little Bear. Let’s go to bed.”

He repositions David to his other arm—he can feel nothing but pins and needles in the arm that held David—and walks to the bedroom, hoping Patrick is already asleep. To his luck, Patrick is curling on the bed, asleep on his side with David’s dolphin plush to his chest. It makes his heart flutter at the sight; Patrick’s face doesn’t show a single sign of distraught like he was in before, and he’s glad for that.

He walks towards the bed and places David down gently, then hands him his bottle of milk. David grabs onto it with both of his hands, immediately putting his mouth on the nipple and moving to lie next to Patrick, but stops halfway. “Move.”

He sits down on his side of bed and looks at David, who’s glaring at a particular spot on the sheet. “What’s wrong?”

David points to the area beside Patrick and pouts through the bottle. “Baby’s there. I wanna sleep beside Mama Bear.”

Sighing, he pats the empty area near him. “Just sleep here. You’re still sleeping with Mama Bear.”

David crawls to the head of the bed before laying his head down on the pillow; the space David leaves between himself and Patrick nearly tears his heart out. He scoots closer to David and kisses the crown of his head. “Sleep tight, Little Bear. I love you.”

David closes his eyes, snuggling into him and hugging the penguin plush. He presses another kiss and curls his hand on David’s thigh, patting him in a gentle rhythm.

Nights like tonight are the only thing he looks forward to each day since the day they got back from the hospital. He doesn’t have to work well late into the night. He gets to put David to sleep. He gets to relish the peacefulness of the night with Patrick next to him on the bed, sleeping. Most of the nights end up with him working until near midnight. By the time he’s back at the apartment, Pete has already put David to bed while Patrick is still awake, staring into nothing as tears slowly fall down his face.

It’s painful to watch and know that his family is suffering. That someone else is taking care of his family while he’s gone, not that he has anything against Pete. He’s grateful that Pete is willing to watch over his family while he’s away, but he also can’t help feeling worthless that he has to ask someone else to take care of his family for him.

And even though Pete has already offered to pay the bills on his behalf, he just can’t accept it. He made a promise to himself, _to Patrick_ , that he’s going to be responsible, and he intends to keep his promise.

He breaks from his thoughts when Patrick shifts on the bed, rolling over on his other side so he’s facing them. Then, Patrick extends his arm, his arm curling on the sheet as if… as if he’s cradling something. Something that’s not there.

His eyes start to water. Can Patrick sense the baby in his sleep?

“Hey there, Tiny Bear.” He whispers softly, heavy gaze focusing on the empty space between Patrick and David. “If you’re really here, I just want to say we love you. We miss you.”

He closes his eyes when hot tears are just on the verge of falling. He doesn’t know if he should feel silly for talking to himself, to something that _doesn’t_ exist, but he likes to believe that their baby—their _son_ , according to David—is there in the room with them. On the bed with them, snuggling comfortably between his brother and his Mama Bear.

He drops his head near Patrick’s as a drop of tear slides down his face. In the dark, between soft snorings and quiet breathings that usually fill him with tranquility, his own sniffles echo.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to help you.”

-

_“Hey, sweetie. How are you?”_

He smiles at his mother’s comforting voice. After what he and Patrick have gone through—are _currently_ going through—it definitely is good to hear her voice again. He drops the laundry basket on the washing machine and leans against it. “I’ve been the same.”

_“How’s Patrick? Is he doing okay?”_

Air leaves his body in a long sigh as he closes his eyes and rubbing his temple. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

_“What happened?”_

“I don’t know.” He laments. “I just— there’s been a lot going on, and Patrick’s still grieving. It’s been a few weeks. I just want everything to stop so I can grieve, too.”

 _“Sweetie.”_ His mother sighs ever so gently in that voice that he used to hear when he was caught lying to his parents. _“I know you love the baby too, but you have to understand that there’s a special bond between a baby and their mother. Or the carriers, in this case. Patrick lost more than a baby. He also lost that bond. All the physical, emotional, mental connections between him and the baby are all gone, so he’s going to need a lot of time to heal again.”_

He groans quietly, a little frustrated. That’s not exactly helpful. “Mom, I lost a kid, too. I feel like I have no time to grieve _at all_. I’ve had to go to work after we got back from the hospital, and I had to take, like, three jobs to pay for the bills and—”

He looks up and freezes when he sees Patrick standing by the doorway, looking small and frail with red and wet eyes. _Shit._ He pushes himself off of the washing machine. “No, Patrick, wait—”

_“Is Patrick there?”_

“I have to go. I’ll call you later.” He says to his mother before ending the call and pocketing his phone, not breaking his eye contact with Patrick the entire time. There’s no doubt that Patrick is going to think that he’s blaming him for putting them in their current position. “Patrick, I didn’t— I didn’t mean that. I mean, I meant that, but I didn’t—”

Patrick’s expression turns shuttered. “You said what you needed to say.”

“It came out wrong. I wasn’t— I didn’t say it’s your fault.”

Patrick opens his mouth, like he wants to say more, but he eventually shakes his head and turns away to head to the bedroom. “You can do whatever you want. You don’t even have to feel obligated to stay here and take care of us.”

He strides up to Patrick and grabs him firmly by the arm to turn him around. When he speaks, his voice trembles with the overwhelming amount of… of fear? Anger? Disbelief? They’ve been together for more than two years. How can Patrick think _that_? _How can Patrick say that?_ “Patrick, I’m here to _stay._ Don’t _ever_ for one second think that I’m going to leave you and David for something like this.”

Fingers placed under Patrick’s chin, he tilts Patrick’s head up and looks into his blue and wet eyes. “I am _not_ leaving you and David. I’m not the person I was when you first told me about David.”

Patrick’s face falters, like he just registered what he said and realized that he’s in this for _real._ “I— sorry, Bren—”

But the damage has already been done. He knows he should stop and just drop it, especially when Patrick seems to have realized his mistake and apologized for it, but he doesn’t. Maybe it’s because of the fatigue and the stress, of being so sleep deprived that his brain can’t function on command. “I get that you’re upset, you have every right to be, but you can’t possibly have _that_ little faith in me. I owned up to my mistakes, I stayed, I fell in love, and _this_ is how much you trust me? Do all those moments mean nothing to you? This _entire_ time, have you always thought that I’m gonna just— just _up and leave_ you and David whenever I feel like it?”

The room seems to warm up in the middle of his rant, and his shirt feels one or two sizes too tight, almost depriving him of oxygen. The back of his eyes sting, like a thousand needles are piercing through them. Patrick’s eyes are no less the same, red and glassy with tears as they reflect back at him. “I tried. Patrick, I _tried_ to take care of you, of David, of this place, but I’ve also been working to support _us_. I barely have the time to grieve and— and wrap my head around it—”

He _really_ should stop.

“—and I know the incident hurts you, but don’t you think that it affects _me_ too? I love the baby as much as you do. I care for the baby as much as you do. Both of us didn’t get to say goodbye. We didn’t even get to see or hold the baby. We didn’t even get to do _anything,_ and I don’t know why everyone hate me so much for not giving me a single break. All I’m asking for is just  _one_ day to really, _properly,_ grieve over our lost baby!”

When he's done, the room goes deathly silent and tense. The rant took a lot of energy out of him, and now that he's got everything out, cold dread hits him from the core.

Did he just lash out at Patrick?

“Patrick…” He takes a step forward and immediately wraps his arms around Patrick in a tight hug. “Patrick, I'm so, _so_ sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on you, oh my God. I'm sorry.”

Patrick’s body is tense against him, and that’s when he knows he just fucked himself up. Patrick struggles against his hold, to which he immediately lets go without a second of hesitation. The last thing Patrick needs to get better is feeling even more guilty for their situation, and his rant certainly didn’t help anything but made the matter worse.

“Patrick, babe—” He opens his mouth to apologize again, but Patrick just keeps his gaze down and walks back to their bedroom. He reaches for Patrick’s wrist, and his heart drops when Patrick yanks his hand back. “Patrick—”

He trails behind Patrick, hand running through his own hair in frustration because _why_ didn’t he listen himself and stop? Why did he continue with his rant even when Patrick had _apologized_ to him?

There’s no one else he hates more at the moment than himself.

When they’re back in their bedroom, Patrick settles into his side of bed without a glance in his direction. He stands by the foot of the bed, helpless as Patrick pulls the blanket up that it almost covers him from head to toe.

There’s a small sniffle, and his heart breaks. He sits down on the bed by Patrick’s hips. “Patrick…”

“I want to be alone for tonight.”

“You sure?” He hesitates, especially when Patrick’s voice sounds shaky, like it’s holding on to everything it can to keep it from breaking. But when Patrick gives him a curt nod, he has no choice but to comply. “Okay. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

He sits up and grabs a pillow, but before he gets off the bed, he leans down to give a light kiss on Patrick’s temple, lingering to see if Patrick would move. When Patrick doesn’t, he sighs and pulls back. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

He closes the door behind him gently. Is there a way for tonight to get even worse?

Heavy-hearted, he drags his feet to the the direction of the living room, darkness of the apartment and previous guilt creeping up on him with each step. He still can’t believe that he had just exploded on Patrick, dumping everything on him and almost indirectly blaming him.

Honestly? It would be understandable if Patrick wants him out of the apartment the next morning. Hell, it would be even more understandable if Pete comes in the morning just to kick him out.

He tosses the pillow on one end of the couch and settles himself, feet resting on the armrest on the other end of the couch as he takes off his glasses and places it on the coffee table. His arms cross behind his head, and he stares up at the ceiling.

Will things get better between them? Will Patrick eventually heal? Will Patrick eventually connect back with David again?

So many questions are barreling through his head at once, and he just wants to shut them all out. He remembers Vicky telling him that he needs to be patient, and he _tries_ to be, but nothing seems to change for the better. If anything, it’s only gotten worse. Like twenty minutes ago when Patrick overheard his conversation with his mother and misunderstood what he’s trying to say.

He closes his eyes with a frustrated sigh and curses under his breath. The laundry is still sitting on top of the washing machine, unwashed. He can’t be bothered to get up after what happened, on top of being too emotionally exhausted, so he decides to do it early in the morning before he goes to work.

 _Or_ he can just ask Pete to do it when he comes the next morning.

That’s actually a pretty good plan. He rolls over onto his side and lets sleep take over him. Hopefully things will work themselves out come morning.

-

A couple of hours later, he shifts on the couch as he is slowly pulled out of dreamland and into the reality. He sleepily gazes around the room until he sees a clock hanging on the wall, and he squints his eyes trying to look at the time.

He gives up not less than a second later, knowing that it’s a futile attempt when it’s this dark and his eye vision isn’t exactly perfect without his glasses. Sighing, he moves his arm to stretch, only to feel soft hair under his fingers and a familiar warmth radiating towards him.

He glances down, and a soft smile crosses his face when he sees a figure he knows all too well is sleeping sitting up beside him with an unmistakable dolphin plush loosely hugged to his chest.

Guess it’s safe to assume that Patrick isn’t mad at him anymore.

His fingers caress over Patrick’s hair, stroking on the scalp, and his smile widens when Patrick, in his sleep, leans into his touch. He continues to caress down to Patrick’s temple and the side of his face, and he frowns when he feels a track of dried tears.

Maybe his mother was right. He should cut Patrick some slack. Patrick was the one who carried their child, not him. Patrick quite literally lost a part of himself in the miscarriage.

He leans up on his elbows and swings his legs to the side of the couch, then kneels in front of Patrick. He places an arm around Patrick’s shoulders and the other under the back of Patrick’s knees, and proceeds to lift him up onto the couch and lays him down properly.

Patrick curls on his side and hugs the dolphin tighter, all in his sleep. Unable to help himself, he leans down and kisses Patrick’s forehead before reaching for a small pillow on the other couch. He lies down on the floor, next to the couch, with the small pillow under his head. With one last look at Patrick’s sleeping face, he closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

Some time later in the late night and early morning, he feels a pressure on his stomach, almost like someone is stepping on him, but he’s already fast asleep before he can give it much of a thought.

-

He yawns when he wakes up again in the morning. After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he grabs his glasses on the coffee table and puts it on, then looks at the clock.

It’s only a few minutes before 6, so he still has time to prepare himself before he has to go to work. Raising both his arms up in the air, he stretches his body with a quiet groan and winces as his back makes a cracking sound. Then, he turns around to look at Patrick.

His heart melts at the sight that greets his eyes. David is sleeping soundly on top of Patrick's chest, his arms spread like he’s hugging Patrick while Patrick has both his hands draped loosely on David's back, keeping him from falling. Both the dolphin and penguin plush toys are laid forgotten on the floor.

His lips twitch into a smile. Maybe things are already getting better.

-

Pete arrives to their place about an hour later, and he has just finished showering and preparing breakfast for David and Patrick. He makes sure to include Patrick’s favourite food this time because he’s aware that Patrick hasn’t been eating much after the miscarriage. Pete barely manages to get Patrick to eat his food, much less him since he’s away from the apartment for the most part of the day.

“Well, isn’t that a sight?” Pete smiles as he walks into the living room and sits on the couch adjacent to the one Patrick and David are sleeping on. “Would make a cute Christmas card.”

The smile on his face never once wavered when he saw them the first thing when he woke up. He did get to take a picture, too. It was too much of a perfect picture moment to simply let it go. Now, he has the picture as his wallpaper.

He walks over to Patrick and David with a blanket and drapes it over them, tucking them in gently and making sure the blanket doesn’t cover David’s head. Then, he picks up the dolphin and the penguin on the floor and places both of them in the space between Patrick’s head and the back of the couch.

“Hey, Brendon,” Pete starts, his voice just above a whisper in the room, “Thank you.”

He cocks his head to Pete in curiosity. “For what?”

Pete’s eyes soften as they gaze at the sleeping figures on the couch. “For living up to your promise. I know the miscarriage is tough on you, so I’m really thankful that you didn’t bail on Patrick.”

“I don’t think I could bail even if I wanted to.” He whispers and runs his fingers through Patrick’s hair. “They need me, and I need them.”

He presses a kiss to Patrick’s head before standing up. “I can’t even imagine how my life would be without them.”

“His parents would have loved you.” Pete offers him a comforting smile, though his eyes never leave Patrick. “They would spoil the hell out of David, too.”

He breathes out a laugh. Though it is sad that he never gets to meet Patrick’s parents, he hopes that if they can see him, they would approve of him. “I gotta go to work now. I’ll be back as early as I can.”

“Don’t worry about it. I got everything around here.” Pete assures him as he also stands up.

As he walks towards the door, he grabs his jacket, wallet, and keys along the way. “I’ve made breakfast, so help yourself. Make sure Patrick eats.”

“I got it.” Pete rolls his eyes, emphasizing each word. “This isn’t my first day.”

“Do the laundry and clean the bathroom too. Thanks.”

“Right.” Pete nods, then widens his eyes. “Wait—”

He sprints out the door when Pete starts to curse, and he laughs silently once he’s outside.

_“Brendon, you asshole, I’m not your maid!”_

-

By the time he gets back, Pete’s the only one in the living room watching a show on the television. He locks the door behind him, the sound capturing Pete’s attention.

“Everyone asleep yet?” He asks Pete as he takes off his jacket and tosses it on the couch before sitting next to Pete.

“Put David to bed about a couple of hours ago.” Pete replies, turning back to the television. “Patrick’s been in the bedroom since he woke up.”

He raises his eyebrow. He thought Patrick would spend the rest of the day with David. “They didn’t spend time together?”

“Not really, no. Patrick woke up before David did, and he carried David back to his crib.” Pete turns down the volume before looking at him, forehead creasing in concern. “You know David misses him, right? And I think Patrick misses him too. I tried to talk to him about spending time with David, but I don’t think he was listening to me.”

“It’s just…” He sighs. “He’s just in a really difficult place right now. Being with David reminds him too much of the baby.”

“I know, but how long is he going to avoid David?” Then, Pete clasps his hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “Talk to him before David catches up. He’s going to think that Patrick doesn’t want him, and that’s just going to make everything worse.”

Of course he knows that. For a two-and-a-half years old, David is smart and intuitive enough to pick up some emotional cues from people. It’s only a matter of time before David realizes that Patrick is avoiding him on purpose, and he’s sure David would be devastated if he ever finds out. “I know. I’m trying.”

“Well, I’m heading back now.” Pete stands up and stretches. “Laundry’s all folded and the bathroom’s all squeaky clean, no thanks to that little heathen of yours. See you tomorrow.”

“Hey, Pete.” He stops his friend, and once Pete turns around to look at him, he pulls Pete into an unsuspecting hug. He can sense Pete’s confusion radiating from him, and he just smiles. “I really appreciate you for doing this.”

Pete chuckles and pats his back. “Don’t worry about it, kid. You know I’d do anything for Patrick.”

After Pete leaves, he switches off the light in the living room and makes his way to the bedroom, noticing that Patrick’s still awake even though the room is dark. “Can’t sleep?”

Patrick shakes his head slowly before turning to him, his eyes puffy and drooping, like he’s been crying and trying to fight off sleep even though his brain is screaming for it. “I need to talk to you.”

His stomach drops. He tries not to think of the worst—like Patrick breaking up with him and taking David from him—and tries to stay positive instead. Patrick won’t make such drastic decisions in his condition.

Right?

He gives Patrick a slow and hesitant nod. “Sure. Let me take a quick shower, then we’ll talk.”

When he jumps into the shower, he avoids thinking of the possibilities of what Patrick wants to talk about with him. It’s giving him nothing but anxiety and nerves. Instead of trying to feed his anxiety, he quickly gets out of the shower and dresses in a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt before lying down next to Patrick.

There’s a silence between them, not tense but not quite comfortable either. He clears his throat. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

Patrick shuffles on the bed, lying on his side to face him. “Can I be honest with you?”

He mimics the movement and nods, looking into Patrick’s tired eyes. “Of course.”

“In all honesty, I've never thought my life would turn out this way. I have my own place to live, I have a stable job, I have a boyfriend, and I even have a son.” Patrick’s voice turns soft when he mentions their son, and it makes his chest flutter with warmth and affection for the man beside him. “After the miscarriage, I'm scared everything will be gone just like that. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost everything. I don’t know what I’d _be_ if I lost David.”

“You’d still be Patrick.” He murmurs, taking Patrick’s hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “The same Patrick Stumph before we met and after we met.”

When Patrick doesn’t seem convinced, he squeezes their hands again and tilts Patrick’s chin up. “Patrick, listen, I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to help our baby, but I promise,” he swallows, feeling a lump in his throat forming, and continues despite the crack in his voice, “Patrick, I _promise_ to all Gods out there, the _second_ our kids come to this world kicking and crying, I’ll protect them with my entire life.”

Patrick’s eyes begin to water, and in less than a second, he has an armful of Patrick crying against his chest. He wraps one arm around Patrick, the other stroking the back of Patrick’s head to soothe him. “We’re gonna be okay. Don’t worry, alright? Just take your time. We’ll get through this.”

“I’m sorry,” Patrick chokes out, his voice sounding strained, “I’m sorry you have no time for yourself. I- I’ll try to get better so I can get back to work.”

“It’s okay.” Maybe… maybe it won’t be so bad if he accepts Pete’s offer to help them. Pete has already said it himself; he can think of it as a loan if he feels uncomfortable taking his money without paying back. Maybe he can call Pete and discuss about it in the morning, then he can quit two of his jobs so he can be with Patrick and David more. Hopefully the offer still stands. “I’ll think of something.”

All his doubts and worries dissipate one by one as Patrick continues to cling to him, sobbing quietly. Of course Patrick won’t leave. He feels idiotic for even thinking of it. Patrick cares about them, their relationship, and _especially_ their son. And it gives him hope that they will be fine again, as a family. He misses watching David clinging to Patrick every second possible and Patrick patiently entertaining him.

Between the quiet sobs and soft sniffles, the sound of door knocks echo in the room, and they both lift their heads to glance to the door.

_“Mama Bear?”_

Patrick detaches himself from him, rubbing his eyes and wiping for any tears on his face. He looks back to the door again when David knocks on the door for the second time. “Do you want me to put him back in bed?”

Patrick bites his lip, eventually shaking his head. “No, it's fine. I feel bad for ignoring him.”

“You sure?” He asks. “It’s okay if you want a little more time.”

Patrick nods, this time looking more sure with his decision. “Avoiding him doesn’t do anything. It only makes me feel even more guilty.”

He gazes at Patrick, waiting in case Patrick decides to change his mind the last minute. When Patrick doesn’t, he gets off the bed and opens the door, to which David immediately runs in between his legs with the very same penguin toy in his hands.

“Mama Bear!” David's face lights up once he reaches the foot of the bed, and he grabs at the edge of the mattress to try to climb up onto the bed. “Mama Bear! I miss Mama Bear!”

He notices the way Patrick's throat bobs and Patrick’s attempt at smiling. His heart aches at how Patrick tries to appear strong in front of their son, especially when Patrick’s voice is just on the verge of breaking. “I miss you too, Little Bear.”

“Daddy, help.” David turns to him with a pout when he fails to get on the bed. Once he lifts David up, David wastes no time bouncing towards Patrick with the widest smile he has ever seen on his son’s face. “Mama Bear! Mama Bear! Mama Bear!”

David falls into Patrick’s arms with a bubbly giggle, and he snuggles in Patrick’s lap with his ever-present penguin, purring. “I love Mama Bear.”

He rubs his eyes. Since when did he start crying?

David rolls over before he sits up properly in Patrick’s lap, a confused look on his face as he looks up at Patrick. “Mama Bear okay?”

Patrick looks down at David, a small smile on his face as he places a hand on top of David’s head. “Mama Bear’s okay.”

Seemingly satisfied with Patrick’s answer, David’s face splits into a big grin. “Mama Bear wanna meet my friends?”

Patrick chuckles and strokes David’s hair. “Sure, why not.”

David springs up to his feet in excitement and jumps to the edge of the mattress to climb down. “Stay there! M’gonna get my friends!”

After David totters out of the bedroom, he sits down next to Patrick. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I meant it.” Patrick nods as he wipes the tears from his eyes. “I really do miss him. I forgot just how much I miss him until I held him this morning.”

He places his arm across Patrick’s shoulders and pulls him close. “He misses you too. Every day he’s been asking if you’re okay and if he can see you.”

“Am I a bad parent?” Patrick whispers, leaning his head on his shoulder.

“You’re not a bad parent for wanting to have some time to yourself to heal.” He murmurs against Patrick’s hair. “Besides, he’s still little. He won’t even remember all this when he’s older.”

“I hope so. I don’t know what would happen if—”

_“Mama Bear!”_

They turn to the door to see David with an armful of toys, some falling from his arms with each step he takes, creating a trail behind him. David dumps what’s left of the toys in his arms on the bed before he attempts to climb the bed again, which he soon whines and demands to be picked up.

After David is up on the bed, he pushes all his toys towards the middle before plopping down in front of Patrick. He picks up an action figure from the small pile and shows it to Patrick with a beam. “This is He-Man. Santa gave me! He-Man is Batman’s best friend!”

They both let out a small laugh at how enthusiastic David is. To entertain David, he asks, “does He-Man have superpowers?”

David nods eagerly as he hands the action figure to him. “He-Man make people safe. Like Batman!”

“And this is Cabby!” David pulls out a red crab plush toy and presents it to Patrick. He remembers the crab plush toy as his sister’s birthday present to David when he turned one. It even has David’s zodiac sign on its body. “Cabby is Doctor Phin’s sister!”

“Does Cabby have superpower too?” Patrick asks this time around.

“Cabby make hurt and sick go away, like Doctor Phin.” David points to the dolphin plush sitting on the nightstand, then drops the crab plush in Patrick’s hand, smiling. “Mama Bear can keep Cabby too so Mama Bear don’t get sick anymore.”

When David moves on to introduce the next toy, he sneaks a glance at Patrick. His heart clenches upon seeing Patrick’s trembling lips and glassy eyes. Before he realizes it happening, tears have already made their way down Patrick’s face in two steady streams.

David pauses mid-explanation as he looks up at Patrick, and he puts his toy down slowly. “Mama Bear, don't be sad.”

Patrick chuckles as he rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I'm not sad, Little Bear. I just have something in my eyes.”

But Patrick’s tears show no signs of stopping.

“Daddy!” David turns to him, alarmed, and pulls his arm in urgency. “Daddy! Daddy! Help Mama Bear! Hurry!”

He brings down Patrick’s hands and places his fingers under Patrick’s chin, feeling his own eyes watering up as Patrick’s tear-filled ones stare up at him, and blows gently into his eyes. It’s just for a show in front of David, but if he has to be honest, he kind of wants to cry, too. David is just too innocent and is still too young and yet he already has to see his parents crying in front of him.

David looks back and forth between them worriedly. “Mama Bear okay?”

“Yeah. Mama Bear's okay.” Patrick answers him, still with a smile on his face when he finally gets his tears to stop. He knows how hard it is for Patrick to be strong and _keep_ being strong in front of their son. “All thanks to you and Daddy.”

David lets out a happy cheer as he jumps into his lap, tugging at his shirt. “Daddy! Mama Bear's okay! Mama Bear's not hurt anymore!”

His gaze remains on Patrick, worried. “You sure you’re okay?”

Patrick holds his hand and laces their fingers together, nodding. “I will be, soon.”

And to him, those four words from Patrick are a confirmation enough that everything will be fine again.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I don't know where to go from there, so... ideas? Requests? :)


End file.
